


In the Bed

by vidnyia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Pining, Roommates, another fic inspired by a dodie song, it's soft though... okay, nobody look at me i'm posting nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidnyia/pseuds/vidnyia
Summary: The thin wall that separated them at night sometimes felt like the only thing that kept Armin’s relationship with Jean wobbling between platonic and romantic, between roommates and lovers. It knew all his secrets, knew how often Armin slipped under the sheets at a quarter to four and sated his body’s urges with thoughts of Jean in his mind.Short NSFW pining fic.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	In the Bed

Nothing quite compared to the haziness of Armin’s room at three forty-five in the morning. The lights were turned down low, barely on, just enough to glow orange in the dark, casting long shadows up the walls. The rain was gentle on the window, tapping over and over, white noise in the background, but all Armin could hear was Jean’s deep voice in his imagination, murmuring his name, telling him he loved him, that he was beautiful. It was easy to pretend, to blur the lines between fantasy and reality, to imagine Jean praising him as Armin lay under his blankets, wearing nothing but the pale green t-shirt Jean had lent him the day before. It smelled like him, like soap and something a little musky that went straight to Armin’s stomach and filled him with heat.

The thin wall that separated them at night sometimes felt like the only thing that kept Armin’s relationship with Jean wobbling between platonic and romantic, between roommates and lovers. Those bricks knew all his secrets, knew how often Armin slipped under the sheets at a quarter to four and sated his body’s urges with thoughts of Jean in his mind. Those images of Jean he conjured were just as beautiful as he was in real life. Armin adored him, he always had, from their first meeting up until now. 

Armin didn’t need more than thoughts to stoke his pleasure. It was enough, for him, to think of things that one day might happen - of Jean’s soft touch, and those gorgeous, sharp eyes softening as they took him in like they sometimes did when he thought Armin wouldn’t notice. Was it real? It didn’t matter, not at that hour. This was his time to indulge in fantasy, the kind that could sate his loneliness until morning came. Only Jean. It was only Jean in his head. 

Would he ever know of this image? Would Jean ever find out just how  _ beautiful _ he looked through Armin’s eyes, how perfect he would be under the orange glow, sprawled out on the bed Armin lay in now? Would he ever know just how much Armin loved him, his soul, his body, his mind? Armin imagined it as ran his hands over his body, pretending his small hands were Jean’s larger ones, back arching up at the simple pleasure of his movement. He thought of the soft sheets under their bodies, of smiling against each other’s lips, of Jean’s fingers in his hair and down his chest and wrapped around his -

Armin’s breath hitched; he slowed down, not wanting to get too carried away yet, not when his mind had so many more fantasies to visit, so many memories to rewrite and shape to fit his desire. Jean. Jean with his long hair and his sharp wit and soft lips and those beautiful hands… how would he look stripped bare? Would he be vulnerable, shy, or would his confidence remain intact with Armin there, looking at him without that wall in the way? Armin would look into his eyes, he knew that. And he’d kiss him for hours, savouring every brush of their lips, every sweet noise he made. His lips, his cheeks, that sharp jaw, all the way down to his collarbones where he might be brave enough to leave a mark as a reminder of his love. He was selfish enough at this hour to want it all. 

“Jean,” he whispered, touching himself gently, not fast enough to reach climax, but enough to stoke the low fire that burned in his gut. Jean was both the fuel and the flame; even hearing the name from his own lips was enough to make Armin dizzy with the most wonderful, sweet lust. Perhaps it came to this too often. Perhaps Armin spent too many nights like this, with this image of Jean in his head to soothe him to sleep, but he could regret it in the morning. 

When Armin brought Jean’s shirt to his face and breathed in that intoxicating scent, he whimpered into the fabric, pretending he was burying his face in the crook of Jean’s neck as he took him, holding on with love, pulling back only to whisper sweet affirmations, adoring praise he kept to himself when the sun was up. And Jean - Jean would look taken aback, Armin was sure - but he’d smile and perhaps press their foreheads together before kissing him, and it would taste of love. His eyes would light up, those beautiful smile lines crinkling up at the corners, and Armin would kiss him again, and again, pulling back only to stare at his body as it moved, their connection growing stronger with each gentle movement, easing out their bliss slowly until they couldn’t hold it back any longer. 

“Jean!” Armin gasped again, fire now burning out of control - he couldn’t resist his urges as he got closer to finishing. It was all he could do to press his hand to his own mouth to quiet his desire. After all, the wall between them wasn’t able to conceal  _ that _ much, and even whilst wrapped in his own delusions Armin knew Jean hearing him wasn’t something he wanted right then. But someday, perhaps… Jean would join him in the bed and pull those noises from him just like he did in Armin’s dreams, smirking, sexy,  _ him.  _

Armin wanted to kiss him through this intense pleasure, wanted to cry out and have Jean ease him through the tension that built and built until it snapped, but he brought himself over the edge at the end of it all, out of breath, eyes watering, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, with Jean’s name muffled beneath his hand. 

Even after it was over, Armin thought of Jean. His fantasies never ended after the adrenaline wore off, no - perhaps the best part of all was imagining those precious, hazy moments afterwards. Sleep always came for him quickly after such intensity, and Armin dreamed of resting with his head on Jean’s bare chest, his head rising and falling as Jean breathed beneath him, no wall to separate them. He dreamed of tracing soft patterns on his skin, of gentle laugher and whispered confessions of love. It would be easy, he thought, but it wasn’t real yet - Armin just lay there, alone, wondering if Jean would ever join him on this side of the wall. 

Armin let sleep take him; when he slipped under, he dreamed of Jean. 


End file.
